remnant
by Icestorm238
Summary: Minoth stumbles upon the aftermath of Amalthus' attack on the Tornan survivors. It isn't pretty. (Major DLC spoilers)


Minoth arrives in Spessia to find destruction.

The sickness that has been churning in his gut for a while now, one that had steadily built and built until all he could think was that he had to _stop_ whatever it predicted, the sickness he is sure has something to do with Amalthus - that sickness rears its ugly head now, worse than ever, as Minoth stares out over the smoldering tents and charred corpses.

He is too late.

Guiltily, the main thought that cuts through the fog swirling in his mind is not concern for the state of the militia, or horror at what has been wrought, but _fear_. Fear, wild and untamable, for Lora, and for Jin, and for Haze, and for Mikhail. Fear for his friends - because, damn it, he's grown to think of them as such. He's grown to care, in a way he was never meant to, but his mutated flesh had allowed. He cares.

Hugo, Brighid, Aegaeon, Milton. They are already lost, as is the Tornan titan. Mythra has disappeared. Addam, he is sure, will soon follow.

Minoth doesn't want to lose the few friends he has left.

Picking his way through the ruins of the camp is a slow process. The militia had clearly been caught off guard; most corpses are weaponless, and expressions are eternally frozen in shock. Once again, his thoughts drift to Addam: the fall of Torna and the deaths of his friends had struck the man a blow that could not easily be repaired. Once he learned of the decimation of his loyal allies - Minoth isn't sure Addam could recover.

And, Minoth recalls, Addam had sent Lora, Jin and Haze here. He'd sent Mikhail - poor, lost Mikhail - with them.

Addam would never forgive himself.

Architect, Minoth hopes at least their friends had survived.

His suspicions at the culprits of this slaughter are confirmed as he stumbles over a white-and-gold clad soldier - an Indoline. Further examination of the dead, something Minoth has been trying to avoid until now, shows more and more Indoline soldiers scattered amongst their victims. He even spies an Indoline Star slumped on top of a couple of - he thinks Urayans - a wing twisted and blood coating its rough skin.

At least, Minoth thinks with grim satisfaction, at least the militia had managed to take out some of their attackers. At least they'd gone down fighting, armed only with their desire to live and spurred on by their belief in Addam.

Addam would be proud, if he is able to think clearly through his grief - and Minoth doesn't have much faith in that.

Addam is a broken man.

In his musings, Minoth forgets to step carefully, and he topples over the body of a Gormotti child. Her eyes are wide, mouth open as if calling to someone, fear etched plainly in her expression.

Minoth isn't sure he's human enough to vomit, but this is the closest he's come to finding out.

Letting his eyes slide closed in a weak attempt to collect himself, he pushes through his nausea to reach out and gently brush her eyes closed. It's a cliché, one he always swore against writing into his scripts, but right now, in this moment, it feels like the right thing to do.

Maybe he won't be so critical of the trope in the future.

He moves on, stepping respectfully over corpse after corpse after corpse. Indoline blends with Tornan, Tornan melds with Urayan, Urayan mixes with Gormotti. All of Alrest's varied races are represented here in a gruesome collage of death, the reek of rotting flesh a morbid perfume and the copious volume of blood a vicious spice.

Minoth is not surprised to learn that his driver is behind this. Horrified, disgusted, and even guilty, but in no way surprised. He'd suspected before he'd even breached the ridge of the cliff, before he'd known for sure what devastation lay beneath.

He did not enjoy being a flesh eater, becoming a cruel mixture of the worst traits of humans and blades at Amalthus' command, but he wasn't too blinded by anger to see that it had freed him from Amalthus' rage, and vitriol, and consuming desire to see the world burn.

Malos' actions weren't so extreme to Minoth, not when Malos had only ever known Amalthus' view of the world.

Two blades, trapped by the hatred of one man.

Maybe, with a different, better driver, things could have been better for them both.

He supposes they'll never know.

Minoth continues his path through the wreckage, making an effort to at least skim the faces of those he passes as he searches for any he recognises. He does recall a few, he thinks: a retainer of Addam's here, a soldier they'd personally recruited there. As much as it hurts to see, they are not who he is looking for.

Finally, after witnessing countless bodies and destruction, he finds her.

Lora lays flat, tucked away by herself in a cave in the side of the cliff. Blood (so much blood, dear Architect there's _so much_ ) shines thickly on her formerly-white outfit, painting the clothes a vicious red. Her eyes are closed, lips curved in the faintest of smiles, and were it not for the blood she would look at peace.

The other factor ruining the serenity of the image is the gaping hole in her chest.

The sickness rises in Minoth yet again, and he chokes it back down. Lora - Lora is dead. Jin, Haze: dead. Mikhail, surely, is dead. Lora lies before him, mutilated and raw and red, and all Minoth wants to do is slump to the crimson-coated floor and cry.

He resists the urge, instead dragging his gaze away from his mangled friend and scanning the immediate area. When he does not find what he expects to see he expands his search, and still finds nothing.

No core crystals. No Jin. No Haze. Not even Mikhail. Where were her companions? Surely they would not leave Lora alone, and certainly not for long if they did. Where were Jin and Haze?

Minoth's eyes drift back to the bloody cavity in Lora's chest, and the sickness returns full-force as it clicks.

 _Oh no_.

"Jin," he mutters to himself, because he is sure Haze would _never_ , "what have you done?"

The wind howls coldly as Minoth leaves the ruins behind, dirt stuck beneath his fingernails from the grave he'd dug for his friend, heart heavy as he leaves his driver's destruction behind.

He has a fellow flesh eater to find.


End file.
